Chapter 2
The autumn air was crisp,
carrying the scent of fallen leaves,
when my receptionist buzzed my office.
"Ms. Whitmore,"
she said hesitantly.
"There is a woman here to see you."
"Does she have an appointment,"
I asked,
signing a stack of legal documents.
"No,"
the receptionist replied.
"She says her name is Vanessa."
My pen stopped moving.
Vanessa had been released on parole three weeks ago,
after serving thirty-six months for her role in the conspiracy.
I closed the file,
my heart beating a slow,
steady rhythm.
"Send her in,"
I said calmly.
The door opened,
and I barely recognized the woman who walked through it.
The designer dresses were gone,
replaced by cheap denim,
and a faded grey sweater.
Her hair was dull,
her posture slumped,
and her eyes darted around the room like a frightened animal.
She stopped in the center of my office,
wringing her hands together.
"Claire,"
she whispered,
her voice hoarse.
"My name is Ms. Whitmore,"
I corrected her,
leaning back in my leather chair.
Vanessa flinched,
but she nodded submissively.
"Ms. Whitmore,"
she repeated.
"I came to apologize."
I looked at her,
searching for the arrogant woman who had stood in my hospital room,
but she was entirely gone.
"Prison changes people,"
I observed coldly.
"It ruined me,"
she confessed,
tears spilling down her hollow cheeks.
"I cannot find a job,
I have no money,
and my family will not speak to me."
"Actions have consequences,"
I reminded her.
"You tried to steal a child."
"Adrian manipulated me,"
she cried,
stepping closer to my desk.
"He told me you were a surrogate,
and that you were trying to extort him."
"You stood there,"
I said,
my voice dropping dangerously low.
"You saw me bleeding,
you heard me begging,
and you smiled."
Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut,
sobbing loudly into her hands.
"I was blind,"
she wept.
"I wanted a perfect life,
and he promised it to me."
"And now you have nothing,"
I stated flatly.
"Why are you here, Vanessa."
She wiped her nose,
looking at me with pathetic desperation.
"I heard about your clinic,"
she said.
"I heard you help women start over."
I stared at her in absolute disbelief.
She wanted my help.
She wanted the woman she tried to destroy,
to become her savior.
"This clinic is for victims,"
I explained,
my tone devoid of any empathy.
"You are not a victim,
you are an accomplice."
"Please,"
she begged,
falling to her knees on my pristine carpet.
"I have nowhere else to go."
I pressed the intercom button.
"Security,"
I said evenly.
"Please escort our visitor out."
Vanessa gasped,
looking at me as if I were the monster.
"You have no mercy,"
she whispered bitterly.
"I have a daughter,"
I replied,
standing up.
"And my mercy is reserved entirely for her."
Two guards entered the room,
lifting Vanessa by her arms.
She did not fight them,
but her weeping echoed down the hallway,
long after the elevator doors closed.
I wiped down my desk,
feeling completely unfazed.
May you like
Forgiveness is a choice,
and I chose not to give it to the woman who wanted to erase my existence.
